Piece of My Heart
by Mag68
Summary: A series of one-shot stories focusing on the feelings of various characters at different points in the series. My first real attempt at angst, so be gentle with me, or I'll really become angsty.
1. Ache

**Ache**

Anger. For six months it had been forming inside of her, nurtured by slights, both real and perceived, fed by betrayal, and frozen by secrets. She could feel the anger inside of her, as a physical presence. As if, she had generated a new organ. One she had formed from each tiny cell of resentment, and became a sustaining life source. Filling the space where her heart used to be. The heart that had been repeatedly bruised and battered for months.

Anger. Not hot and bubbling, but cold and hard. For it to warm, she would have to drench it in tears, and tears were not something that Emily Gilmore found acceptable. She wasn't the kind of woman to take to her bathtub for a good cry when she needed release. There were no drenched pillowcases stuffed with soggy tissues in Emily's world. Bloodshot eyes and puffy lids were not something she chose to show the world. It was easier to be angry, to let the ball of ice forming inside of her grow like a snowball careening downhill, picking up everything in it's path and adding to it.

_Jason Stiles. Digger, _she thought derisively. At first, she was happy that Richard took him on, hoping that by adding a partner, Richard's workload would ease up, allowing him more time at home. _I _c_ouldn't have been more wrong about that_, Emily thought to herself with a snort as she walked into the living room and poured herself a glass of scotch, neat. Taking on Jason, had imbued Richard with new enthusiasm. It had fueled his legendary competitiveness. It had been the first crack in the four decade long fortress of their marriage. Jason was young, had his finger on the pulse, and knew who Moby was. _Who cares? Why would anyone want to be named after a whale?_ Emily thought with a mental sneer. Her husband was so swept up in the tide, that he hardly even noticed the gap widening between them. They had always been a formidable partnership, one that her friends envied and his business associates admired. Richard had respected her social acumen, especially when it benefited him professionally, and Emily always made sure it did in the long run. _And now he's slipping away_, Emily thought as she bit her lip. _He's out with clients, he's preparing for a meeting, he's waiting on an important call, he's having lunch with Pennilyn Lott,_ the final thought stopped the speeding locomotive of her brain dead in its tracks. She shook her head decisively as she ran her finger around the rim of her glass. Jason wined and dined their clients at hip clubs in TriBeCa. Jason thought elegant cocktail parties with canapés were passé. Jason didn't need her help, and by extension, neither did Richard. And so, Emily Gilmore found herself virtually unemployed. Sure, she still had the household to run, but there wasn't much to that. Even less, now that Richard was gone most nights, like tonight. Entertaining clients with Floyd now, instead of Jason. The grandfather clock in the foyer ticked off the seconds as she sat alone in her beautiful house. She took a deep breath, mustering the anger, welcoming its soothing coolness. _He probably took them to that coyote bar where they dance on the bar in cowboy hats,_ Emily thought with a snort as she took a sip of her drink.

_Pennilyn Lott. Insipid, vapid woman_, she thought derisively as she stared into her glass of scotch, seeing Pennilyn's face reflected back at her. _How could he do that?_ The questioned ricocheted through her mind, bouncing off of her skull and echoing back endlessly. Richard knew better than anyone how she felt about that woman. _How could he meet her, behind my back, knowing that it would hurt me?_ she asked herself. _He didn't care._ The thought shook her to the core. He couldn't have cared. There is no way on Earth that Richard could have possibly thought that she would understand his need to keep up the connection with the woman he had almost chosen so long ago. _He still wanted that connection._ _He must feel that something is missing_, she thought morosely. The thought fueled her anger even more as she polished off her drink and got up to pour another. _What more could he possibly have wanted?_ she thought angrily as she slammed the crystal stopper to the bar and sloshed more scotch into her glass. "Everything," she whispered aloud. "I gave him everything. I did everything. All of it, for him," she said to the empty room. "For forty years my life has been his life," she said in a dazed whisper. She looked around the room she had decorated with such care, and realized how cold it felt. Emily took a deep breath and consoled herself with the thought that she was sure that he hadn't slept with her. She had seen enough of the philandering antics of her friends' husbands over the years to know. Richard Gilmore was not a man to cheat, at least not physically. But he had cheated her. He's betrayed her trust. He had crushed her absolute faith in them. "What could Pennilyn Lott have possibly given him that I couldn't?" she wondered aloud. _Did Richard really yearn for one of those mousy women who do nothing but look on with adoration as their titian husbands conquered the world? Did he really want a wife who would ask him what her opinion should be before she opened her mouth?_ _He should have married her then,_ she thought as she stalked back to her chair. "His mother would have been so happy," she murmured as she sank down into the cushion. She closed her eyes and tried to squelch the sorrow long enough for the anger to take over again. She regulated her breathing to the metronome of the clock, slipping back under the protective cover of her icy anger.

_Trix._ _What a stupid nickname_, she thought with a snort as she took a fortifying sip of scotch. _The bitter old biddy never wanted her precious Richard to marry me_. _She thought I wasn't strong enough. She thought I didn't have what it took,_ she though derisively. Logically, Emily knew that there was nothing she had done, or hadn't done for that matter, to earn Richard's mother's low opinion of her. Her family was just as well bred as the Gilmore's; she was educated, well read, articulate, immaculately groomed and socially adept. And yet, Trix had managed to find fault in everything she did. And even after forty years, Emily had been baffled by her enmity. And Richard stood by, mildly amused, as his mother belittled her. When she broached the subject with him, he brushed it off, attributing Trix's abuse to a rapier sharp sense of humor, steadfastly refusing to see the derision with which his mother treated his wife. _There was no pleasing that woman_, Emily thought with a frown. _Even after she died. _Of course, it had been left to Emily to handle the arrangements, Richard was completely bereft, and Trix had left very specific instructions. Emily had willingly jumped through every hoop, placed every call, tracked down the last living descendant of each and every person or proprietor that she had requested, and still it wasn't enough. _Who writes a letter like that? _Emily asked herself._ Worse yet, who writes a letter like that, and then, saves the carbon copy of it for forty years? Who makes carbon copies of letters?_ she asked herself incredulously. She felt the pain coursing through her veins. Lorelai had seen it. Lorelai had heard what her grandmother had written. Her daughter had borne witness to the most humiliating moment of her mother's life. Emily knew deep down that Richard's mother had known she would find the letter. She had to know that Richard would not be the one to go through her files, to organize her estate, to protect the precious bar glasses from his cousin Marilyn. _Why? What could I have done to deserve that? What have I ever done but cater to her whims, and cater to Richard's needs. She knew I'd find it. Vicious, spiteful, vindictive bitch_, Emily thought angrily, her face hot with fresh humiliation. She glanced over at the fireplace and smirked coolly. She lifted her glass in salute and said, "At least you're not on my mantle."

She looked down at the nearly empty glass in her hand and thought, _What are you doing? Sitting alone. Drinking alone. _She stood up decisively and walked into the kitchen, rinsing the crystal tumbler and placing it beside the sink for the maid to wash the following day. She glanced around the empty kitchen and caught sight of the phone. She wanted to talk to someone, anyone. She wanted to silence the doubts in her mind with mindless chatter about teas and luncheons. She wanted someone to come over and admire and envy the beautiful Venetian glass apples gracing her dining room table. She wanted someone to cluck their tongue and marvel at her razor sharp wit. She wanted someone to care. She thought long and hard, trying to think of one friend that she could confide in. "Sweetie," she whispered softly. "I miss you so," she said as she blinked back a sudden rush of tears.

Her mind flashed to an afternoon a few years ago. She had been cutting lilies in the garden, when Lorelai 'stopped by' while she was in Hartford for her class. Emily was as mystified by her sudden appearance as she was by her daughter's offer to listen if she needed to talk. It wasn't that she didn't want to. It was just that the idea of it was so foreign to her. As she told Lorelai later, she envied her daughter's relationship with her own daughter. She yearned to be able to pick up the phone and say, 'Lorelai, I need to talk,' but she couldn't. It wasn't appropriate. _I can't call Lorelai_, she realized as she took a deep breath, steeling herself against the emptiness of the house and the emptiness in her heart.

The house was so still that she could still hear the ticking of the grandfather clock in the foyer even in the kitchen. She remembered the last time she had noticed the noise. It was in the deathly silence after Floyd had announced his plan to ruin his son and Richard, and dropped the bomb that Lorelai and Jason had been involved for months and kept it hidden from them. Jason had run after his parents, and Richard had fled to the study, leaving Emily alone in the foyer with Lorelai. 'Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock,' the sound mocked her then as it mocked her now.

_Lorelai._ The last time Emily had felt this empty was eighteen years ago, when her daughter had taken that precious baby and fled the safety of home for a world of her own choosing. Lorelai thought that Emily didn't understand her, but Lorelai was wrong, Emily understood her too well. Lorelai protected Rory just as fiercely as she had tried to protect Lorelai. Lorelai wanted as much for Rory as she had wanted for Lorelai. What Lorelai didn't understand was that Emily had hopes and dreams too. She had hoped that she and her daughter could bridge the gap between them. She had dreamed of a day when Lorelai would turn to her for counsel and advice. That night, that horrible night just a few days ago, Emily realized that no matter what she had hoped for, Lorelai was no closer to coming home to her than she had ever been. She had fooled herself into thinking that Lorelai and Rory's physical presence in their home once a week would be enough. She had bullied her way into their lives, forcing open the door and squeezing herself bodily into the crack. But that night, Emily realized that Lorelai would never willingly let her in. That her daughter would rather hide her life, than let Emily be a part of it. Lorelai would slam that door on her again and again, crushing every bone in her body, and squeezing the air from her lungs.

Emily clutched the counter behind her, squeezing it so hard that her knuckles whitened with effort. But this time, the anger wasn't enough. She took a breath and called on it, pleading with it to wash over her, and cleanse her with righteous indignation. "Oh please," she whispered softly as she felt the ball of ice melting. "Please," she said, choking back a sob. She finally closed her eyes and gave in to it, tears flowing silently down her cheeks as she felt the anger ebb from her. She glanced blindly around the empty room and knew in her heart that she would be left behind in her big beautiful empty house, with nothing but the ache that the anger left behind.


	2. Pity

**Pity**

She should have been happy. She should have been excited. She should have been something other than confused. But she wasn't happy, not excited and she definitely was confused, and possibly a little angry. She just wasn't really sure why. This is what every kid dreams of happening when their parents have long been estranged. But she wasn't a kid anymore, and she certainly didn't kid herself into believing that this had anything to do with her or her happiness.

For the first time in her life, Lorelai Leigh Gilmore pitied Lorelai Victoria Gilmore. For the first time in her life, Rory Gilmore saw her mother without the blinders that a child's love for a parent provided. Even during their estrangement the previous year, Rory still held Lorelai up as a paragon, someone to be reckoned with, a force of nature. Now she saw only a broken woman, clinging desperately to whatever scraps life threw her way. The stunning, vivacious creature from whom she had received her name and her life's blood was no longer there. Her sparkling eyes were nervous and uncertain. The bright smile rang false. The laughter was hollow, and her innate joy had been squashed.

It would be easy to blame others for her mother's demise. Luke, the man they both trusted to take care of them, had hurt her deeply. Cutting out her heart as he cut her from his life, and Rory had stood by and watched it happen. She alone, knew the agony Lorelai was going through. She alone, knew what had happened when her mother had finally reached the breaking point. She alone, knew what her mother's ultimate betrayal had done to Luke. Yet, she hadn't tried to counsel either one, and she couldn't console either of them. Her mother's denial was deep and fierce. Her heart bruised beyond recognition, and her fire snuffed. Luke was shell shocked, reeling from the disaster his life had become, and finding refuge on the same river in Egypt that Lorelai was floating. They just weren't floating it together.

And then there was Christopher. Rory loved her father in the way that one loves a slightly errant child. She tolerated his weakness because she had never known anything else from him. She appreciated his optimistic zest for life, but resented his opportunistic timing. She knew that he loved her mother. He always had. She also knew that he wanted Lorelai for his own, and not for any reasons remotely connected to the child they had created so long ago. Rory was used to her peripheral role in the continuing saga of Lorelai and Christopher. Contrary to the words he says, she knew that her thoughts and feelings did not play into his decision making, never had, never will. He had proven that repeatedly over the years with broken promises, and requests ignored when they didn't give him what he ultimately wanted, Lorelai. She couldn't really blame him, because he hadn't done anything that she hadn't expected him to. He saw his shot, he took it. She smirked as she thought, _You gotta kind of respect that_.

Frankly, she didn't really care which of the men in her life Lorelai chose to marry. In reality, it made very little difference to Rory. What mattered to Rory was the difference in made in Lorelai. Would Lorelai ever come back? Would she laugh again and really mean it? Would she smile and let it light her eyes? Could Rory ever forget this stranger her mother had become? Could Lorelai ever stop compounding the pain she had been going through by making rash decision after rash decision? Did she still want to be Lorelai after seeing what Lorelai could do to herself? Could she ever forgive Luke for hurting her mother so badly? Could she ever reconcile what her mother and father had done while, technically, Lorelai was still engaged to Luke? Could she ever look at her father and see anything but a spoiled, opportunist who would push and push to get what he wanted? Would they take her down with them when they fell?

The questions plagued her night and day. Lorelai had come to the apartment needing to talk to Rory, pleading with her to understand this disastrous decision she had made. Rory nodded and smiled and made up some excuse about being hurt that she wasn't there to see them marry. Lorelai seemed relieved, needy, and desperate for her daughter's validation. Rory was happy to give it to her, if only to spare her mother more pain. She felt owed it to her, especially after turning her back on Lorelai's pleas for reason when she had made her own horrible decision a year before.

So, she played along. She agreed to a trundle bed for a room in a house that she would never live in with both of her parents. She gave up exclusive rights to her room for a little sister she hardly knew. She played the daughter for the happy family Friday night dinners, knowing that it wouldn't last long. She would support her mother's sincere efforts to make her marriage work, even if she could see it for the sham it was. Better than anyone, Rory understood her mother's need to make a decision and see it through. Rory knew that Lorelai believed that this was it, that this was what was meant to be all along. Rory knew the Gilmore tunnel vision well, and knew the power that it could wield.

She was just going to feel so bad when it all fell apart, as she knew it would. She would hurt for both of them. Sorry for her Dad for the loss of his lifelong dream, and sorry for her Mom for the loss of her illusions. Because, more than anyone, Rory knew how crushing reality could be for Lorelai. All she could do was wait, and watch and be there when it all came down. She would be there to help Lorelai find herself again, even if she was never quite the same as she was.

Rory stared out of the window at the house she had grown up in. She slowly removed her keys from the ignition, dropped them into her purse, and opened her car door as she heard Lorelai thundering down the stairs calling, "The redcoats are coming! The redcoats are coming!" Rory saw her mother appear in the doorway, a big smile plastered to her face. She greeted her and then, in turn, greeted her father and Gigi while Lorelai babbled about saving Christmas until she had gotten back from England. Rory looked at her mother, and listened to her desperate attempt to make them into a family. She smiled and nodded while all she could think of was that it was just such a pity that it wasn't real.


	3. Panic

**Panic**

Back in the far corner of the pantry at the Dragonfly Inn, she sat rocking back and forth, clutching her stomach and whispering, "Oh God, Oh God no, please no." She had fled to her sanctuary after she waved her best friend off that evening. She couldn't face it yet. She couldn't face him yet. "Oh my God," she whispered again. "This can't be happening to me." But it was. It is. She knew that it was true, but she didn't know what to do about it.

Sookie St. James Belleville put on a happy face every day. It was expected of her. She had the dimples to back it up. And most of the time, she was a happy person. She had a husband who she loved, two beautiful children, a home, a business, friends… In other words everything a girl could want, right? Everything anyone could hope for. Then why did she feel like a piece of granite that a sculptor was chipping away at? Why did she feel like that last little bit that was 'me' was skipping away?

_I didn't want this. Jackson knew I didn't want this. How could he have kept that from me?_ she wondered as she pressed her eyes closed. "What do I do? What do I do?" she whispered. She couldn't go home. Se was afraid she'd lose it and do something irreparable. She couldn't take the chance that she would say something or do something that would end her marriage. _Oh my God, end my marriage? How did I get here?_ she thought as her heart started to hammer. _I don't want to end my marriage! I love Jackson. I love Davy and Martha. I just didn't want another kid. Is that wrong?_ she asked herself. "I don't want this," she said out loud, which immediately made her feel guilty.

She knew she was being selfish. She knew that ordering Jackson to have a vasectomy the minute Martha was born was probably not the nicest thing a wife could do. But she also knew that she had a right to know if he hadn't gone through with it. He had an obligation to tell her. And now… "Oh my God," she whispered again as she tried to absorb it all.

The tears began to flow in earnest. _Is it wrong to want to go to the bathroom without someone following me? Is it wrong to want to walk out of the house without having to bring most of its contents with her? Is it wrong to need five minutes out of the day when no one wanted a piece of her? Is it wrong to want a little bit of herself to stay intact? Once you became a wife and a mommy, you didn't matter anymore. Once you became a wife and a mommy everything you want or need has to come after what your family wants or needs. What about what I want? When did that stop mattering? When did I cease to exist? Why don't I get a say in this? _her brain screamed in frustration.

Sookie didn't know how it had all spun out of control. She was happy. She liked her life. She loved her kids, and enjoyed watching them grow and learn, but she also looked forward to the day when she didn't have to change another diaper. She'd actually been counting them down. And while she appreciated Lorelai's efforts to make her see the bright side by reminding her of all of the joys, right now, all Sookie could think of was that she was trapped. Trapped in the never ending demands of motherhood. Trapped in a marriage where her husband doesn't share vital, life changing information with her. Trapped in a tiny little box with no air, and no room to move. "I can't do this," she whispered to the empty room. "I'm not strong enough. There's not enough of me left," she said softly.

She glanced down at her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach and for a brief moment wondered if she was protecting herself or the baby. She blinked, wiping her wet cheeks as she looked down at her stomach. _Would he or she know?_ she wondered. _Poor baby. Would he or she know that they weren't wanted? Weren't planned,_ she corrected herself mentally_. Of course, I'll love this baby_, she told herself. _This isn't the baby's fault,_ she reminded herself sternly. _This baby didn't ask to be made. This baby didn't know that its mother was a basket case and its father was a coward, _she thought with a smirk. "Poor baby," she murmured as she ran her hand over her stomach. _Would it all come out one day? _she wondered as she bit her lip. _Would it slip out during a fight? Would this poor baby find out that his or her mommy really didn't want another child? Oh god, what if it does? How do I deal with that? What if I can't make this baby believe that I love him or her? _she thought as she spread her fingers protectively of her stomach.

"Oh baby," she whispered. "I really will love you. I promise. You just need to give Mommy a little more time to get used to it, okay?" she asked softly. "Just a little more time," Sookie murmured as she wrapped her arms around her middle again and began to rock back and forth.


	4. Torn

**Torn**

_How can the happiest day of your life also be the worst day of your life? How can one person be so hurt, so betrayed, and so confused one minute, and then over the moon the next? _she asked herself. She stared blankly at the ceiling, listening to his soft snores. She turned her head to look at him. He is a hero. Her very own Greek god, with the golden helmet and the shield and the sandals. And he said yes. Without even thinking it over, he said yes, he wanted to marry her. This wonderful man lying next to her was willing to kidnap her kid, lock her in her room, drive her to classes, and basically sit on her until she embraced her dream again. _Because he loves her, and because he loves me,_ she thought with a soft smile. _I'm a lucky, lucky girl. _

_Oh Rory_, she thought with a sigh. _How did it all go so wrong? We were on track. You had school and work and your pretty boy, and I had Luke_, she tried to reason with her daughter telepathically. _We should be so happy_. _Why? Why can't we just be happy?_ she wondered helplessly. _How could you let that idiot, Mitchum, break you like that? What happened to my girl? Where's the 'I'll show you' attitude that I've been instilling since you were born? _

She looked at Luke's face, soft with sleep, the lines around his eyes smooth, and a small satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth. She wanted to marry this man. She wanted to be with him forever. He was her best friend, her lover, her biggest supporter, her comfort and her safety. She knew he loved her. Her lips curved as she recalled how quickly he said yes. _Very, un-Luke Danes_, she thought with a smirk. _No processing, no discussion, no ranting, no hesitation, just 'yes.'_

She should be ecstatic. She should be floating on cloud nine. For a while she was. When his answer sunk in, when they realized that this was it and that they were getting married, she was filled with a bubbling giddiness. She tamped it down, trying not to scare him with her urge to bounce up and down. _Well, I did bounce a little, but I played it off as excitement over the Zima, _she thought wryly. They drank the Zima, toasting their engagement, she teased him over his need to seal the deal with a kiss, and then they came back here. He made tender, passionate love to her, letting every kiss and every touch convey his love for her, as she reveled in it, knowing that he made her feel whole. _At least for a little while._

She did feel bad. She knew that he deserved more than this. She knew that this was not the right time. Their engagement deserved whole hearted joy, and she was only half hearted at the moment. She swallowed thickly as she gently brushed back a lock hair that had fallen over his forehead. She consoled herself with the knowledge that Luke knew her well enough to know that, without Rory, she was only partly there, and loved her enough to wait for the rest of her to catch up. She wouldn't regret proposing. She knew that wanting to marry Luke was right and true. This was the man for her, and she was going to do her damnedest to be the right girl for him. She just wished, for his sake, that things were different, that's all.

Turning back to the ceiling, Lorelai replayed the scene at Weston's in her mind. Maybe she could have been a little more understanding. Maybe she could have been a little less defensive, and listened a little harder to what she was trying to say. _Maybe, _she conceded._ But, how do you throw away a lifetime of dreams in one day? How do you steal a yacht, anyway? I should have kept my cool. Rory is just as stubborn as any Gilmore. I should have kept my cool and let her have her say. Let her get it out there, and then stew on it a little. I could have talked her down. I could have gotten her back on track, _she thought with a pang of regret that was almost physical. _I should have kept my cool._

Lorelai's mind flashed to her mother. _Oh, Emily, you must be so pleased now,_ she thought derisively. _You've finally gotten what you've wanted all along. You have my daughter now,_ she thought as she felt a fresh wave of pain crashing over her. Her parents' betrayal of all they'd worked for was bad, but not entirely unexpected. She had seen them pull similar moves over and over again through the years. The last being as recent as a year ago, when Richard double crossed Jason Stiles to save his own skin. She just never thought they'd do something like this when it involved Rory and her education. Her education, the holy grail they had all relentlessly pursued for the last five years. _It boggled the mind_, Lorelai thought with a frown. _How can they justify this? How could things have changed so radically from morning to night? They were in perfect accord. They were untied, determined to keep Rory on track. What could have derailed the plan? _she wondered. She realized that she will probably never understand what made her parents pull a complete one-eighty on her, but she knows that it probably had a lot to do with a pair of watery blue eyes.

A tear slipped from her eye as she pictured her daughter's face as she gazed at her through the pool house window. The grim determination on her baby's face as she turned away from her, away from everything they had planned. That was the worst betrayal of them all. _How could she have run to them? Why not Lane, or Sookie, or even her father? Why them?_ She knew rationally, that it was logical for Rory to turn to her grandparents for support. After all, they were the paying for Yale. She also knew that Rory would be aware of how badly it would hurt her. _It was intentional. She went to them, knowing that they would take her in, and knowing that it would effectively cut me off. Rory knows that I won't come begging around there. Rory knows that I won't be showing up unexpectedly, working on her, and trying to wear her down. She couldn't have picked a better place to get away from me, _she thought as the tears began to roll softly down her cheeks.

She choked back a sob as she squeezed her eyes shut, tried to regulate her breathing. _Oh, Rory,_ she sobbed silently. _Don't do this. Please don't throw it all away. How can you? You love school. You love me. Don't turn away from me. Why are you doing this?_ she pleaded, focusing her thoughts on her daughter with all of her might.

She felt his arm cover her waist as he pulled her up against him, cradling her to him as he stroked her hair. "Shh, shh," he soothed softly. "It will be okay. I promise. We'll find a way, and it will all be okay," he whispered as he pressed his lips to her temple. He held her close as the sobs wracked her body, shaking him to the core. "I'll do anything," he promised raggedly as her tears dripped onto his bare chest.

Lorelai raised her tear streaked face and ran her fingertips over his furrowed brow, smoothing it again, and trying to ease his worry. He could taste the salt on her lips as she kissed him gently and whispered, "You make me so happy." She pressed her cheek back to his chest and murmured, "I just wish I wasn't so sad."


	5. Loss

**Loss**

_They do not know_, he thought to himself. _These people who think I'm being silly and demanding. They cannot know what love is. How could they? If they did, they would understand what it means to lose someone you love so much,_ he thought as he pressed his lips together firmly, fighting back the tears. _They say 'It's just a dog,' and look at you like you're insane. They shake their heads, roll their eyes and say you're being overly dramatic, but they don't know. They cannot know what love is. How sad to be them,_ he thought with a small superior smile.

Anyone who has ever loved a pet knows what he is going through. Having a dog is like having a perpetual infant. _They are completely dependent on their person, unlike cats, who have a distasteful independent streak, _Michel thought with a frown. Their sun rises when you do, their world ends when you leave the room. And, each time you reappear, it's Christmas Day. The excitement so profound, that they cannot help but dance. The joy shines from their warm brown eyes when they realize that you have come back to them. The unadulterated glee of knowing this person was put on Earth specifically to love them and for them to love in return. _Anyone who has ever loved a dog like I loved Chin Chin would know, _Michel thought petulantly.

He closed his eyes, stroking Paw Paw's soft, thick fur, noting how different it felt from Chin Chin's. People don't realize that each and every dog has his or her own personality, like a person, but more perfect, like a snowflake. Dogs have no hidden agenda. Your dog doesn't mock you or pity you or find you annoying. Your dog simply adores you. Michel listened carefully to the Celine Dion song that Zach was playing with such tender emotion as he reflected on his companions. Paw Paw was always the happier of the two, full of life and mischief. Chin Chin chose to be more reserved with his emotions, but was more empathetic to Michel's moods. Paw Paw would dance and prance and vie for attention. Chin Chin would just sit quietly at his side, waiting patiently for the touch of his hand on his head. And when he spoke, Chin Chin had a way of tilting his head just so, letting Michel know that he heard and understood. When he was upset, Chin Chin would stretch out at his feet, placing a comforting paw over Michel's foot, letting him know he was there.

Even as Michel carried him into the veterinarian's office, tears streaming from his eyes, Chin Chin tired to comfort him with his soft brown gaze. _So pure, so trusting_, Michel thought as he choked back a sob. He had stroked his ears gently as the vet examined him, keeping his eyes level with Chin Chin's, talking softly to him in his native French, letting him know that he was there. With a soft sigh, Chin Chin closed his velvety brown eyes and drifted away, leaving his disconsolate person behind to mourn.

_These smug people with their condescending consolation,_ he thought sadly. _How can they not know that there is no love more pure, more unconditional than the love between a dog and his person, a person and his dog. It comes with startlingly few expectations. If you do not chew my couch, I will scratch your ears. If I give you only the best gourmet dog food, you promise not to do a number two in my Bruno Magli loafers. It is a relationship built on trust and respect, and I respected Chin Chin more than I respect any person, _Michel thought as his eyes darted around the crowded room. _And he loved me more than anyone ever has._


	6. Regret

**A/N: Thank you so much for your comments and reviews. As some of you may have noticed, I am not necessarily picking the most obvious moments for some characters. I am just trying to pinpoint some moments that may have slipped by and take a closer look at them. I hope that you like it. I am working ont he next chapter of MM, never fear!**

**Regret**

He heard the door open and sensed someone entering the room, but he hadn't the energy to open his eyes. He heard a soft intake of breath and turned his head, his eyes fluttering open to see Lorelai standing at the foot of his bed, staring at him with a look of utter devastation. She gave him a small, uncomfortable smile, and he was just about to open his mouth to speak when the door burst open and Emily, Rory and Joshua entered the room. Once again, the moment was lost. There hadn't been many of these moments over the past sixteen years. But there were moments, and Richard would come to regret each one.

Once she had been the light of his life. Beautiful, bright, inquisitive and determined. Even as a child she fascinated him. Her bright blue eyes captivated him from the moment he first held her in his arms. Her facile mind and quick wit amused him. Her intelligence made him pleased and proud. She was a magical creature dropped into their midst, shaking up their orderly world and mystifying her adoring father more and more with each passing year. He could never understand what she expected of him, but he knew without a doubt that she found him lacking. He just didn't know what he was missing. He had provided a beautiful home, with more toys and clothes than ten children needed. There were the best nannies, the best schools, and the best extracurricular instructors. The best of everything, but still, it was never enough for Lorelai.

As she grew older and more rebellious, he thought that she was simply spoiled, too indulged by her parents who spent their lives trying to tame this tempest in their house. He distanced himself further from her each year. Richard Gilmore was raised in a world where children were meant to be seen, but not heard, and Lorelai demanded to be heard. As men of his generation did, he left it to her mother to get her straightened out and on the right path. Unfortunately, Emily didn't have any better insight into their daughter than he did.

She was a complete puzzle to him. As determined as he was, as stubborn and single minded as her mother. Charming and compliant one moment, and then completely out of control the next. By the time she had become a teenager, she was a virtual stranger to him. The day that she told them that she was pregnant, Richard Gilmore's carefully constructed house of cards came tumbling down around him. He sat silently, listening to Emily, Straub and Francine try to sort out the mess that their children had gotten themselves into. As tempers frayed, he listened to it all swirling around him as he saw all of his hopes and dreams for his daughter eddy down the drain. When he finally spoke, he said in a calm voice, "They will get married, they will live here, and Christopher will go to work at my company. That is the solution. Now, we have a plan so we can all stop talking about it. Please excuse me, I have work to do," he said as he rose from his chair, anxious for the sanctuary of his study.

Of course, Lorelai would have nothing to do with her father's plan for her life. She refused Christopher's offer of marriage, shunning help from her parents, even going so far as to call a cab to take her to the hospital when she went into labor. She brought Rory home to their house, and when Richard looked into his granddaughter's bright blue eyes, he fell in love all over again. They tried to make things easier for Lorelai, bringing in nannies for Rory, encouraging her to go back to school, to pick up the tattered shreds of her life, but Lorelai seemed to be shrinking in front of their eyes.

And then, one day, she was gone, leaving nothing but a note and her mother's broken heart behind. Richard spent his days and nights trying to console his devastated wife while he hired the best private detectives to track their wayward daughter down. With each passing day, with each tear that Emily shed, Richard's anger and frustration grew, obliterating the tender feelings he had for his daughter, and hardening his heart. Eventually, they located her in a tiny town about thirty miles from Hartford, working as a maid at an inn. Emily tried time after time to contact Lorelai, begging, pleading, demanding and threatening her daughter, desperate to have them home where she knew they would be safe. Lorelai dug her heels in and refused all contact with her parents, determined to build a life completely separate from them.

As Rory grew a little older, Lorelai finally accepted Emily's overtures, as she had decided that it was important for Rory to know that she had grandparents, even if she only saw them at holidays. The first few visits were contentious and strained, usually ending in Emily screaming at Lorelai, and Lorelai gathering a crying Rory and storming from the house. But, every Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, Lorelai always brought Rory back to see her grandparents. The first of these moments of possible rapprochement came at Christmastime. Emily had given Rory a beautiful china doll, in a Lucite case, of course. As Lorelai looked at it she smiled softly, remembering a similar doll she had herself at Rory's age. Richard looked over at Lorelai and said without thinking, "She looks like Bettina," referring to Lorelai's doll by name.

Lorelai's eyes flashed to her father's in surprise as she murmured, "Yes, she does." She gaped at him for a moment, searching for something to say to him, some way of acknowledging that she did remember how it used to be between them.

Richard watched her struggle for a moment and then cleared his throat, looking over at Emily and asking, "What time are we due at the Gunderson's?"

And so it went, year after year. Moments like these slipping by before either of them could engage their brain and make the words come from their lips. Rory began to grow into a young lady, and Lorelai grew into a successful woman in her own world. When she came to them about money for Rory's tuition for Chilton, Richard was actually slightly displeased by the arrangement Emily had struck. He had gotten used to the polite distance. He had become comfortable with having a polite stranger for a daughter. It seemed to suit them both equally well. But as he grew to know Rory, he came to understand what an exceptional child she was, and appreciate the hard work Lorelai had put in raising her, even if he didn't necessarily agree with her methods.

Richard's eyes lingered on his daughter, wishing the moment back. As Emily, Rory and Joshua discussed his condition he tried in vain to make Lorelai see, his eyes pleading with her for understanding. Lorelai blushed slightly and looked away as the others discussed keeping him in the hospital over night. Richard sighed softly, knowing that once again he had missed his chance. He watched as his only child offered a weak smile and slipped out of the room, away from him again.


	7. Justification

**Justification**

She stormed into the bedroom and slammed the door. "I'm not an idiot," she growled as she paced the room. _Of course I know what I'm doing is wrong, of course I know that Jamie doesn't deserve to be treated like this, but what could she possibly know about it?_ Paris thought derisively. _Little Miss Perfect, Little Miss I Never Do Anything Wrong,_ she sneered in her head. She stopped dead in her tracks and sank down onto her bed, holding her head in her hands. "Oh my God, what have I done?" she murmured. _I broke up with Jamie. I dumped my loving, caring, wonderful, perfect boyfriend. For what? A fling with an older man?_ she thought as she dug her fingers into her temples.

_I am an idiot. Jamie loves me. Jamie wants to be with me. And Asher? What if the rumors are true? What if he does have a different student each semester? What if I'm not special?_ she wondered. _Jamie thinks I am. Or, Jamie thought I was,_ she corrected herself. What if I am just another conquest? A young, lusty girl to keep Asher's bed warm? No, no, Asher loves me. He sees me for who I am, and appreciates me, she thought with a shake of her head. He's not threatened by my intelligence, he finds it alluring. And so he's a little older, that's exciting, she thought as she stood up to pace the room.

_Jamie used to be exciting_, the thought popped into her head uninvited. _He used to make your heart jump and your stomach queasy,_ she reminded herself. _You're just another co-ed who allowed herself to be seduced by the attentions of an older, accomplished man,_ she chastised herself. _Fool,_ her brain taunted. _You just threw away the best thing that had ever happened to you for something you can't even tell anyone about. He'll keep you hidden in a corner. Tell you that your love is too special, too intimate to be shared with the world. He'll tell you that he thinks of you all of the time, that you inspire him, and that you make him feel young and strong. And you'll fall for it all, because you're an idiot,_ she sneered at herself.

She turned and looked at the phone on the desk. She placed her hand on it, ready to call Jamie back and tell him that it was all a big mistake. A joke. That she was schizophrenic or on drugs, whatever it took to convince him that she didn't mean what she had said. She hesitated, looking at her hand resting on the receiver and wondering if she really meant that. _Am I running back to Jamie because he's safe? There's no guarantee that he won't hurt me eventually, _she reasoned. _He may seem like a good guy now, but let some brainy brunette with bigger boobs bat her eyes at him, and he could be gone like a shot,_ she justified. _Its better this way, _she told herself as she let her hand slide from the phone. We may as well end it now, it's not like we were going to live happily ever after or something, she thought listlessly.

_I'm young. I should be doing these things now. I should be living a life without caution, taking chances,_ she thought decisively. _I should see where this thing with Asher goes. Lord knows, it isn't permanent. We're not staying together until death us do part,_ she thought with a smirk. She looked down at the phone again and thought, _Poor Jamie, he was crazy about me, I just never could quite figure out why._


	8. Pain

**A/N: This will be the last installment in my little walk on the dark side. Thank you to all of you who read and reviewed. And now, I return to the land of fluff – rainbows, unicorns, clowns, little cute furry… and I'm out…**

**Pain**

He walked through the door, tossed his coat over the back of the nearest chair and walked directly to the refrigerator for a beer, twisting off the cap and flipping it carelessly to the countertop. He walked through his apartment without turning on a lamp, instead using the glow from the streetlights below to guide him. He walked over to the windows and looked down at the square below as he pulled the rest of his shirttail from his waistband and took a long swallow of his icy cold beer. He stared down at the Christmas display, which was now crushed, broken and in complete disarray. He smirked down at it and thought; _At least I'm not the only wreck around here._

He flexed his right hand convulsively feeling the ache of his bruised knuckles and smiling to himself. _Man, it felt good to hit that bastard again._ He winced as he turned from the window and dropped down into his battered old chair. Of course, this time, Christopher got a few of his own shots in, instead of just taking it like the sucker punch Luke had dished out last May. _That's okay_, Luke thought with a shrug, _still felt damn good_. He picked at the label on his bottle with his thumbnail and wondered, _But why was he coming after me? _He shook his head, unwilling to waste time trying to figure that schmuck out. _Who cares? All I know is that when Sissyboy pulled his fruity little scarf off, it was game on! Oh, I wanted to smash his smug face in,_ he thought with a sigh. _Why?_ _Why, why, why? I should be past it by now. She's married. To him. It's over, gone, dead, _he reminded himself. _But Christopher had a head full of steam over something, and he was directing it at me, _he mused._ Trouble in paradise? _he thought snidely._ It's not like I slept with his fiancée, sorry wife, _he thought as a fresh shot of pain sliced through him. He cooled it with another pull on the beer bottle.

He stuck the bottle between his thighs and rubbed his sore knuckles. He knew he should get some ice or something to put on his hand to keep the swelling down, but he didn't care. The pain didn't bother him. If there was one thing Luke Danes was used to, it was pain. Actually, now he welcomed it. Because along with pain came his good friend anger, and he had felt the anger slipping away lately. That wasn't good. He needed the anger now. He needed it to fuel him, to keep him going, to make him open his eyes each day, because if he didn't have the strength to fight for April, he would have nothing. _Nothing at all_, he thought as the pain washed over him, granting him much needed relief from the sadness.

He didn't want to be sad. He didn't want to feel wretched and pathetic. He wanted to feel strong. He wanted to keep moving. Not working through the pain, but with it, letting it prod him along, and keep him alive. He knew that if he felt the pain, that he was still there, still feeling something, anything other than the emptiness he had been feeling since Anna announced her intention to move April to New Mexico without any thought as to her relationship to her father. Basically telling him that she was severing that relationship, and trying to cut him out of April's life. He couldn't let that happen. Not now. _Not now that I know her. Not now that I love her. Not now that I need her,_ he thought biting his lip. He tasted the metallic twang of blood in his mouth, and his lips twitched into a small smile. _Ah, pain,_ he thought dryly as he waited for pain's companion to enter.

_I don't care what Jim says, I will win_, he thought as he got up from the chair, cringing when he felt the sharp pain in his side. He rubbed his bruised ribs and tried to take a long steady breath. "I have rights," he said out loud. "I have to have some rights, damn it," he muttered as he slammed the bottle down on top of the television and began pacing, rubbing his sore right hand. He stopped dead in his tracks and whispered, "Anger management," as he gazed down at his skinned knuckles. "Oh God," he said in a horrified voice when he realized what he may have just sealed his fate with one stupid fight. He pressed his right hand to his stomach as he ran his left hand over the back of his head. He shook it firmly saying, "No, no, it'll be fine. It will be fine." He looked down at his hand again as he pressed his lips together and the tears rushed to his eyes. "God damn it," he murmured as he blinked back the tears and took a big gulping breath. "God damn it!" he yelled as he picked up the nearly empty bottle and hurled it against the wall, smashing it to pieces. Heedless of the mess he had made, Luke sunk down onto the couch and covered his face with his hands. "Oh, please," he whispered helplessly.

After a few minutes, he dropped his hands, letting them dangle uselessly from his knees. _My whole life is in that bastard's hands,_ he realized. _If he tells Lorelai, she'll never believe that he came after me. If this fight becomes known, it could ruin everything._ _Why didn't I stop and think? Why do I let him get to me? _he asked himself. _You know why,_ his subconscious taunted. _He has it all. He has everything that was supposed to be yours. Lorelai, Rory, that piece of crap house. He's sleeping in your bed. He's making love to the woman you love, probably right now._ "Oh God," he whispered again as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Lorelai lying beneath him, her eyes dark with pleasure as she whispered words of love, stroking his face, running her fingers over his stubble as she called him Christopher. He felt the pain searing his heart, burning it until there was nothing left but ashes.

He turned his head and looked at the small photo April had framed of them taken on their field trip to Philadelphia. He blinked slowly, mesmerized by the bright smiles on their faces, their arms slung casually around each other. "I have to fight. I can't not fight," he told her softly. "If I don't have you, I don't have anything." He rubbed his hand tiredly over his face as he pushed himself from the couch and walked into the kitchen. He took bag of peas from the freezer and another beer from the fridge and carried them back to his chair. He twisted the cap off of the beer and tossed it in the general direction of the coffee table before wedging the bottle between his legs. He rested his hand on the arm of the chair and placed the bag of peas over it.

Using his left hand, he lifted the beer to his lips as his mind raced. _He won't say anything. He wouldn't want to. No one would believe that I couldn't kick his ass from here to next Tuesday. No matter what, he comes off as a wimp,_ he assured himself. _I just hope I didn't bruise up his delicate little face. That would be hard to explain,_ he thought with a smirk. _No, Christopher won't say anything, because if he does, that means he has to admit that he sees me as s threat to his happy home,_ Luke thought with a nod. He blinked as his thoughts stopped dead and his heart started hammering in his chest. _Am I?_ he wondered. _Does Christopher think I could take Lorelai from him? Could I? _his brain asked, a little spark of hope flaring in the ashes of his heart.

Luke shook his head to clear it and said, "No. No, that's done. April. Focus on April." _Yes, focus on April, Luke,_ his conscience taunted. _After all, that's what got you here in the first place. You were so focused on April that you forgot about Lorelai, so yeah, focus on April, that will make you forget,_ he berated himself. He stared hard at the picture, willing himself back to that time and place. He was so happy. She had referred to him as her dad. They were learning about each other. They were forming a bond. He shook his head as he asked himself, _I already had the bond by the time we got back. Why couldn't I let Lorelai in? Why did I do that? How could I hurt her like that? _He knew he had hurt her. He knew that he had hurt her deeply. He saw it in her eyes, but he chose not to look. He couldn't look, because if he did, he would crack. He didn't know why he resisted. When he told her that he didn't know what he was scared of, that was the truth. He still doesn't know. _Maybe I didn't trust her enough. Maybe I thought she would do what she actually ended up doing, but after we were married,_ he tried to justify. As soon as the thought entered his head, though, he shook it away. He knew deep down that Lorelai had wanted to marry him. He knew that her desperate plea for him to elope was her grasping for one last hold on him.

He knew that he had intentionally pulled away from her. Establishing a life separate from hers again. Sleeping above the diner, rather than in their bed. Keeping the two most important people in his life from each other. Only turning to her when he was desperate and scared of falling on his face in front of April. He was petrified of letting them both know that he couldn't handle it. _I couldn't handle it, I'm pretty sure I proved that beyond a doubt,_ he admitted to himself. He couldn't stand to fail her, to fail either of them. So, he chose. He chose blood over heart. He chose a girl that he had known for minutes over a woman he had loved for years. _Did he regret it?_ he wondered. _No, not really,_ he thought with a shake of his head. _I did what I thought I had to do,_ he told himself. _Would I do it differently if I could? Hell yes,_ he thought with a self deprecating chuckle.

He looked at the picture taken in Philadelphia again and then reached for the small drawer in the end table. He pulled it open slowly, testing his resolve. He peered down into it, not daring to touch anything. He gazed at the picture of him and Lorelai. His arm was around her, his hand in the small of her back. Her face was in profile, looking up at him with a smile so bright that he could see her eyes sparkling even in the snapshot. He looked at his own face in the picture, drawing in a soft breath as he realized how utterly happy he looked as he glanced down at her with a smile of his own.

He closed the drawer, certain in the knowledge that he would never feel that again. He lifted the bag of peas from his hand and flexed his numbed fingers, testing, searching for the pain. When he felt a twinge shiver up his arm, he smiled. _Sting's got nothing on me_, he thought as he settled back, resting his head on the cushion. "I am the king of pain," he said aloud as he lifted his beer and toasted himself. After he placed the bottle on the table he closed his eyes and thought, _Lorelai would have been so proud of the reference._


End file.
